


Do You Like Piña Coladas?

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, M/M, Shrek AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as an ogre ain't grand, but Jensen has carved out his own little corner of the forest. When he's served with an eviction notice, he sets off to fight it, but doesn't expect to encounter a rather annoying donkey who becomes quickly attached to him. And definitely not to become a wee bit attached in return. AKA: a semi-cracky reimagining of Shrek and Donkey</p><p><b>Warnings:</b> mentions of gross living conditions and meals (i.e. eating  animals and other ogre-related details), slight violence related to dragons</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Like Piña Coladas?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2013-14 [dragonbigbang](http://dragonbigbang.livejournal.com/). Big thanks to [yokobenning](http://yohkobennington.livejournal.com/) For the last-minute beta!

Once upon a time, Jensen fell in love.

At a young age, his eyes would go soft and his smile bright as he thought about the young man who’d stolen his heart. They were both striving towards manhood, and both worked the stables down at Mr. Stewart’s farm, where all the local youth came to earn a few coins. Jensen, though, he showed up to admire the broad shoulders of his new love, to relish the strength in those long, bulky arms that could haul more hay than all the others. His voice would get a particularly youthful lilt whenever he spoke the boy's name, and his head went dizzy every time he stood in his true love’s presence.

But as with all tales, Jensen and his beloved were not meant to be. They were separated by hate and spite, never to see one another again.

Okay, actually, it was approximately 14 years ago and it was neither deep nor meaningful, and was perhaps more like a crush gone awry when Steve Jones finally paid Jensen some attention. He’d led Jensen down along the Ruby River, around the bend where the Black Castle’s lawn began, then as they’d exchanged hand jobs and Jensen proclaimed everlasting love to his first crush, the Grey Witch shooed them off her lawn.

When Jensen wasn’t fast enough, she cast the boys to separate parts of the forest with a life-ruining, particularly eternal spell.

Or curse, really. Because now Jensen was an ogre. And not one of those fairy tale ogres with a soft, round face, and a cushiony belly that hid ticklish spots. No, Jensen remained much his same size, with the long legs and torso, shoulders straight as the rafters of the abandoned horse stable he now calls home, and eyes brighter than the leaves in the Diamond Forest when the sun rose high in the sky. The green eyes are likely his greatest curse, because the witch took great inspiration of them and turned his formerly smooth—albeit freckled _everywhere_ —skin into scaly, emerald reptilian leather.

As a boy, Jensen was repeatedly told by his mother, aunt, grandmother, not to mention a dozen or so of the townsfolk, that he would grow handsomely into a tall, firm, physically capable body much like his father, older brother, and cousins—all of whom had leveraged not only their sharp minds but their pleasant physical character, too, and found well-paying positions that promised to feed mouths for years to come.

No, Jensen had found himself in the middle of a big gay crisis at the age of seventeen and thus banished to the furthest corner of the Diamond Forest without hope for family, friendship, or even casual companionship. He slept on a pile of dusty hay, washed in a spring off the beaten path, and wore the same white tunic and gray pants that once had Steve Jones’ hands in them. Food was an even bigger joke, especially given his location. Jensen figured that after fourteen years as an ogre meat he should be accustomed to the slithery inchworms and crunchy junebugs that also inhabit his humble abode. He wasn’t really, but he tried to say he was.

All in all, Jensen’s life was pretty miserable, making him miserable as well, but he arose in the morning, made it through each day, and set his head back down a lumpy pillow to sleep to the next day. It was a routine that he’d set for himself and at this point in his life, he’d settled, safe and comfortable. Lonely, sure, but he’d survived for fourteen years in this existence; he could last another fourteen.

And then one relatively quiet Tuesday morning, Jensen found an eviction notice tacked to his forehead and he not only wondered how he’d slept through that, but who in the world would even want to collect rent on this shack.

 

****

 

Jensen figures the first thing to do after making scrambled ostrich eggs and cleaning up the wound in his forehead is to trek across the forest to deal with the eviction. On the back of the flier is an address that was only familiar enough to realize it’s a few-day’s journey, off in the Platinum Hills, where stables was at least three times the size of Jensen’s home and are never left forgotten. There were tales of horses arriving to the north end of Langy Lake by the shipload.

Unfortunately none of those horses had made it this far across the hills, so Jensen sets off on foot, heading southwest with the sun.

The first few hours are quiet, much like the rest of Jensen’s life, and he hardly bothers to notice the swarms of gnats following. When he finally stops for a quick rat tail jerky, the flies circle his head and make it impossible to take a bite without also taking in dozens of them. He cringes the first few times, but eventually gives up and resigns himself to the added saltiness of crunch the flies, which only amps up the dryness in his mouth.

Soon after his snack, he ambles on, but can’t ignore the way his tongue began to slip out of the side of his mouth, as if seeking moisture in the air.

The forest is shade from the warm sun, yet also shields Jensen from seeing beyond the trees. He stops and spins in place, then frowns, dizzy in an instant as he still feels tired, hungry, and now thirsty.

A slug shake would be good right about now, and he’d packed himself a few. Except he’s only prepared for a shake a day and isn’t ready to use today’s serving.

In the far distance, he hears a soft lapping sound and imagines a tiny creek winding itself through the trees. From his years spent studying his self-drawn maps, he knows there isn’t one nearby, but he wonders if something has broken through, or if any of the locals have dug a spring in the months since he’d been this deep into the forest.

It takes another twenty minutes tracking a bit to the east, and the sound grows louder. So does a slight rustling of the brush covering the ground where a tree had fallen years ago.

That’s when he sees it: an animal, four-legged, furry, and recognizable. And yet far too large for what he thinks it was.

“A giant donkey?” he mumbles.

It doesn’t matter how softly Jensen swears he’s said it, the animal turns in place and Jensen quickly slips behind a tree, breathing quietly and trying so hard to not draw attention. He’s had fourteen years of practice, he’s basically a professional.

There’s a loud snuff, leaves rustling, but Jensen remains stock still with his breath held. The noises drift away, so Jensen counts to ten then takes one step away from the tree when a stick cracks under his foot.

“Who’s there?” the animal shouts, and Jensen quickly pulls himself behind the tree again.

There’s a reason ogres live solitary lives, not least of which is the way other people and animals judge and mistreat them. Jensen has no intention of being called out for leaving his quarters, and especially not being stopped on his mission.

He waits even longer this time, far beyond the point when silence falls upon the forest again. He contemplates sliding down to sit and spending a night in the forest, just to avoid whatever is out there … or, hopefully, was.

When he considers the coast as clear, Jensen walks away from the tree only the come face to face with the long muzzle of a donkey pressed up to his own. The donkey’s eyes are impossibly large and staring right into Jensen’s, and his snout snuffles with a long breath in and out. Then it pulls its head away, yells, “I _knew_ someone was there!” and jumps forward.

Jensen is knocked to the ground as the donkey quickly jumps at him, front hooves pressing sharply to Jensen’s ribs, and face coming down close to Jensen’s again.

“I knew it, knew it, _knew it!_ And you’re a … a …” The donkey sits back on its hind legs, which are not dangerously close to Jensen’s groin, and takes Jensen in from his toes up to his face. “What are you?”

“What are _you?_ ” Jensen asks, voice low and hard.

“Me?” The animal motions to its chest then over its jaw, flicking its long pointy ear with a flourish. “I’m a donkey, duh!”

“Don’t look like any donkey I know.”

“Well you don’t look like any human I know, either, so pffft!”

Jensen slowly wipes his face of warm, sticky donkey spit. It helps for only a moment until the donkey leans forward again and pokes at Jensen’s cheeks, pushes his eyebrows around, then pulls his mouth open to stare inside.

“Like, seriously. You have all the human parts, and a human tongue, but you’re all green all over!”

When the donkey starts prodding at Jensen’s shoulders, sides, and even his belly, Jensen shoves him off and shakes out his clothes from leaves and dust. “That’s enough! Don’t you know how to properly approach?”

The donkey clears its throat and frowns, deep and pathetically sad. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He suddenly leaps forward with his front legs around Jensen’s neck, swinging them both from side to side. “It is so awesome to meet you, you awesome … thing you.”

Jensen tosses the donkey off again and puts distance between them. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m Jared, actually,” he corrects with a quick bow. “And I’m super pleased to meet you.” He drifts off while pushing his head forward, waiting for something.

“Great, good for you.” Jensen rolls his eyes then gets right back on his path, winding between tree trunks.

The donkey trots alongside Jensen, no matter how quickly Jensen tries to move forward. “It _is_ good for me. I haven’t seen a human in _years_ , and to find one out here in the center of the forest, where strange bugs and critters live … well, I’m just elated to have found you, human.”

“I’m not a human,” Jensen mutters, quickening his feet.

“Oh. Okay, then. I haven’t seen a lizard in _years_ , and to find one out here in the middle of the fore-”

Jensen sighs. “I’m not a lizard either.”

“Oh, well, what are you then?”

“An ogre.”

“ _Oh_. Wow. Okay. An ogre.”

Jared has slowed his pace, and for some strange reason, Jensen chances a look back and stops when he sees the frightened look on Jared’s face. “What? What now?”

“Well, ogres eat all sorts of things that other … things … don’t ever consider.”

Jensen actually chuckles and tips his head to the side. “You mean like donkeys?”

Jared hurries behind a tree trunk, just barely looking out behind it. “You’re not going to eat me are you?”

“No,” Jensen says slowly. “Shockingly, there’s no real nutritional value in a don-- _mmph_.”

Once again, Jensen is on the forest floor with Jared on top of him, this time alternating quick kisses with a long, wet, tongue lapping along Jensen’s cheeks.

Jensen gets Jared to stop with a strong hand around Jared’s neck, slowly leading him back a foot or so. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you,” he says between clenched teeth

Jared jumps off and quickly sits at attention. He even salutes with a solemn nod. “Duly noted.”

Surprised by the quick reaction, Jensen slowly rises to his feet, wary that Jared will smother him in kisses once again. “Alright then.” He moves forward and takes up his path, focusing into the far reaches of the forest ahead of him. Sunlight just barely breaks through the branches, but he can still tell that he’s going in the right direction.

Then Jared bumps up against him, grins, and prances alongside at a steady pace. “So, pal, where we heading?”

“Nowhere,” Jensen grunts, “and I’m not your pal.”

“Well, you’re certainly going somewhere!”

“Yes, I am. You? Not so much.”

Jared bumps him again and even noses at Jensen’s side. “Oh, c’mon now, buddy! We’ve had such a beautiful beginning to such a beautiful friendship! You can’t lose me now.”

Jensen angrily smiles at Jared. “If I try hard enough, I’m sure I could.”

“Go ahead and try,” Jared replies with a wink.

 

****

 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

Jensen huffs, feet stomping through the leaves, and does his best to ignore Jared.

“And you haven’t told me where we’re going.”

Jared, who is still following him.

“I already told you my name.” He smiles up at Jensen and pokes his own chest. “Jared, in case you’d forgotten.”

Jared, who never shuts up.

“And I told you that I’m on a quest to find a new home.”

Jared, who seems to have nothing better to do than waste his day following an ogre on an unknown adventure.

“But you still haven’t told me a single thing about yourself.”

Jared, who has surprisingly swift legs to keep up with Jensen, no matter quickly Jensen tries to walk.

“Not your name, where you live, what you’re doing, if you’re married, have kids, not even your favorite color.”

Jared, who frowns when Jensen gives him a side-eye glance.

“I was going to guess green, but I was a little afraid you’d take offense to it.”

Jared, who leans in close to nuzzle Jensen’s side.

“You’re not offended are you?”

Jared, who never stops asking questions.

“Okay, fine!” Jensen shouts, nudging Jared away. “You want to know something about me?” He stops in place and turns with a sharp look to Jared. “Then fine! Here’s something about me.” He also does his best to ignore the wide, hopeful eyes staring back at him. “I. Don’t. Like. Donkeys.”

Jared, who is now frowning and tugging at Jensen’s heart.

“All donkeys?”

Jared, who is surely in that category.

“Yes. All donkeys.”

Jared, who is now grinning at him.

“So, not just me?”

Jared, who leaves Jensen no chance to escape.

“Good to know,” Jared says as he skips a few feet forward. He even wiggles his tail as he smiles over his shoulder. “I won’t take it personally then.”

 

***

 

“How do you go so far without eating? Walking this much? Back even when I was more active? I’d be noshing on every little thing in my path. Like that tree bark, or those leaves or— _oh! Berries!_

Jared rushes off to the right and makes a sliding stop in front of a dark, closely cropped bush with bright purple-seeded berries at the ends of every branch.

Jensen once came across a bush like that, in his first year as an ogre, starving and unable to shop at the fair or make his own food. He doesn’t like to relive much of those early years, but what sticks with him is the memory of bright flavors, sour quickly followed by sugar bursting on his tongue then his head smacking the ground. What was supposed to be an early morning treat turned into a full-day nap, and Jensen woke to the moon as the only light around.

He considers letting Jared take a long nap and leaving Jensen to continue his journey in silence … except Jensen remembers the aches that wracked his body for a week and kept him in bed for nearly two. He wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone, not his worst enemy, and thus not even Jared.

Seconds later, he’s snatching a branch out of Jared’s mouth. Jared stares up at him with big, scared eyes and his mouth closed, so Jensen opens his hand, commands, “Open your mouth,” then sighs when Jared gulps and opens his mouth, now empty and tongue stained purple. “Oh, boy,” he sighs again.

“What? What’s the big deal?”

“They’re poisonous.”

“Uh, no,” Jared laughs. “They’re _delicious_.”

“And poisonous,” Jensen repeats firmly. “They once knocked me out for a whole day and made me bedridden for a week.”

“Oh, please,” Jared tsks. “It may have knocked down someone as small as you … but a big, strong donkey like me? I can handle it.”

Jared chuckles once more then promptly passes out and falls right into Jensen’s arms with his head flopping back at a truly unnatural angle.

Jensen rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Yeah, sure thing. buddy.”

 

****

 

Under ordinary circumstances, Jensen would not be huffing and puffing after hauling a limp donkey a couple hundred feet away. He likes to think his stamina is better than this, but Jared is also larger than an average donkey, and the pure annoyance that Jared has brought to Jensen’s life alone is enough to make him huff and puff.

Jared lies awkwardly on the ground, legs akimbo, head at an impossible angle, and somehow Jensen takes pity on the donkey. He repositions Jared to something closer to a true sleeping form and piles some leaves beneath his head for support.

He feels bad leaving Jared, even though he’s been trying to shake him off all day. It’s not fun to wake up from a poisoning all by oneself. And it’s definitely not polite to abandon someone so that they wake up from said-poisoning all alone.

Jensen curses himself for not being able to move, guilt weighing down his legs so all he can take are a few steps in both directions—away then quickly back to Jared.

“C’mon now, Jensen,” he mutters. “Make up your mind.”

“Who’s Jensen?”

Jensen stares at Jared, who is groggily moving to sit on his belly, legs tucked beneath him, and eyelids fluttering before finally seeming completely open. “You’re awake?”

Jared blinks largely. “I think so?”

“Yeah, seems like it.” Jensen nods and smiles awkwardly. “Well, I guess you can handle your berry.”

“Told you,” Jared says, groggy yet stable when he stand. He stretches each leg out, shakes his head and nearly goes cross-eyed with it, then stands at attention. “Now, where are we headed?”

Jensen makes a face and takes in the fullness of the forest, how the sun is started to glow further off in the west. He’s certain there are only a few more hours of daylight, and he’s still intent to go this alone. “Well, I’m going southwest, but I think you should stay put.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you could’ve killed yourself out here and—”

“But I didn’t,” Jared insists.

“And you passed out--”

“And now I’m awake.”

Jensen sighs and sets his hands on hips. “Jared, if it weren’t for me, you could have fallen and really knocked your head. You could’ve gotten some kind of injury. It’s not safe for you to keep going.”

Jared tips his head in consideration. “If it weren’t for you?”

Reluctantly, Jensen admits, “I caught you before you hit the ground.”

“So …” Jared slowly blinks, looks off in the distance to the dangerous bush, and aims deep, soulful eyes at Jensen. “You saved my life.”

“Well, no,” Jensen mumbles, not wanting to make himself a hero. Definitely not where Jared is concerned. “I just--”

“Caught me in your strong arms and kept me out of harm’s way.” Jared grins, lips pulling back to reveal bright, crooked teeth. “You totally saved me, pal. Now I’m here for you.” He dances in place, hooves kicking this way and that with excitable energy. “Whatever you need, Jared’s your man. I ain’t leaving your side until I can repay the favor, whatever it is.”

“No, definitely not,” Jensen insists then turns away from Jared to return to his path.

“Definitely so!” Jared cries happily, running to catch up. “Anything you want, you got it! Need to reach a cornbug up on a high branch? I’ll climb the tree to fetch you food! Can’t get through some serious branches? I’ll chew us out!” Jared snaps his jaw open and shut, making loud growling noises.

Jensen clamps his hand around Jared’s mouth to shut it and glares at him. “You opening your trap and chomping on branches is what got us into this mess! You understand?”

“Yessum,” Jared mumbles with his muzzle still held closed by Jensen’s hand. He waits until Jensen eases up on the hold and slips back to mime zipping his lips. “No probbum,” he mumbles through tight lips.

“Oh jeez,” Jensen sighs, stepping forward again, Jared keeping up.

“You never did tell me where we’re going.”

 

***

 

“You eat rats?”

Just before Jensen’s set his mouth around the rat tail jerky, he turns to find Jared staring at him with his wide donkey mouth hanging open, eyes nearly bulging out of his furry head, which is hunkered down into his shoulders. “Yeah, so?”

“Rats,” Jared says in the same high-pitched, startled tone.

“Yes, rats, Jared,” he replies, waving the jerky towards the donkey. It only makes Jared hobble a few feet away, which is good enough for Jensen. A little personal space never hurt anyone. “I am an ogre, and ogres eat rats.”

“Why?”

Jensen rolls his eyes as he chews, ignoring how Jared whimpers in response. “Because fine dining establishments are pretty anti-ogre.”

“And now I see why.” Jared aims a thoughtful look at Jensen. “Why don’t you and some ogre friends team up to open one yourself?”

“Open our own restaurant?” When Jared nods enthusiastically, Jensen laughs, hard. “Right, I can see it now. TGI-Ogres.”

“Yeah, why not?” Jared asks, nodding with a bright smile. Though that smile falls when Jensen pulls out another piece of jerky.

Jensen exaggerates taking a big bite of the rat tail right in Jared’s face and chewing with his mouth mostly open. “It’s not like we ogres have money or can easily get a loan.”

Jared goes nearly pale as his eyes narrow and he points a hoof towards Jensen’s face. “You have a bit of … whisker on your chin.”

He plucks the whisker off, licks the end of it, then pops it right into his mouth.

Jared turns his nose up, “Repugnant.”

“And yet you stick around,” Jensen replies in between licking rat sweat off his fingers.

Looking up at him as they continue walking, Jared starts a rapid fire of more questions that Jensen has no interest in answering.

“Ever had dog? I’ve heard it tastes like chicken.”

“No,” Jensen replies, mentally adding the fact that he had one growing up and couldn’t manage to do more than pet a dog these days. If they ever bothered coming close enough.

“Squirrel?”

“It’s good with a red sauce.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Jensen makes a face, trying to make out the right words to describe it. “Chewy.”

“Chewy’s not a flavor,” Jared laughs.

“It is to me.”

“Raccoon?” he tries.

“Kinda like chicken.”

“Really?”

Jensen shrugs. “Most things taste like chicken.”

Jared gets a particularly playful gleam in his eyes. “Then what’s chicken taste like?”

He rolls his eyes, ready for the inquisition to end. “Everything else?”

“What about cat?”

“What about it?”

“Do you eat it?”

“No, never,” Jensen insists, shaking his head violently. “I would never.”

“Good.”

“Do I pass your test?” he asks on a sigh.

Jared bumps into Jensen’s side and winks, even as Jensen grumbles and pointedly takes a few steps to the side. “Jury’s still out.”

 

****

 

“Seriously though,” Jared says, “what is your name?”

Jensen sighs, but remains quiet.

“We’ve been going for hours and you haven’t told me your name yet. I told you mine, and that my favorite color is pink, and my favorite flower is a poppy, and that my favorite snack is dried cranberries covered in maple.”

“That you did.”

“Meanwhile, you’re all crabby and huffy and rolly eyed.”

“I _am_ an ogre.”

“And all ogres are crabby and huffy and rolly eyed?”

“I don’t know.” Jensen sighs and flaps his arms out in annoyance.

“How do you not know?”

“Because I don’t hang out with many ogres.”

“So, it’s just you then?”

Jensen glares at Jared, but it barely deters him.

“Growly, too. I should add that to the list.”

“What list?”

“Of things you are.” Jared ticks off the words on his hoof, skipping as he goes. “Crabby, huffy, rolly eyed, grumpy, and green. Very, very green.” With a thoughtful noise, Jared assesses Jensen. “And nameless.”

Jensen bites his tongue. It’s been far too long since he’s been called by his name, let alone considered it as a part of him. He’s been an ogre for fourteen years, and that’s all there is to it. Jensen was a young teenager who more often followed his heart (or sex drive) than his brain; he’s not so proud to recall that part of his life either.

Still, he speaks against his better judgment. “Jensen.”

“Ogres are jensen, too? Huh, never heard that one before. But you’re an ogre, so I’ll take your word for it!”

Jensen starts to roll his eyes, yet stops when Jared’s list runs through his mind. “No, I mean … Jensen, it’s my name.”

“Oh, wow, okay.” Jared’s eyes are large as he considers Jensen. “That’s, interesting, you finally said it.”

The only proper response is a shrug, because Jensen’s not sure what Jared’s next reaction will be. Jensen’s growing quite tired of being jumped at it.

“What kind of name is Jensen?” Jared asks, looking up at Jensen with baleful eyes.

Jensen’s skin tightens and his lips curl up. “What kind of name is Jared?”

“It’s my kind of name, and I like it.” Jared strikes a defiant pose, mouth set in determination, as if challenging Jensen to take issue with it.

“Well that makes one of us.”

“You’re rude, you know that?” Jared narrows his eyes even as he brings his head closer. “You are rude, and crabby, and huffy, and rolly eyed, and grumpy, and green.”

“Exactly!” Jensen roars back in Jared’s face. “All things that ogres are.”

“No!” Jared shouts back. “All things that _Jensens_ are.”

“Yeah?! Maybe!”

“No, not maybe,” Jared spits back, saliva smacking Jensen in the eye. “Yes, definitely!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Jared huffs and strikes one hoof in the ground. “It’s not like I wanted to spend my days following a grumpy, rude, and crabby _Jensen_ all around the forest.”

Jensen puffs out his chest and lifts his shoulders to overshadow Jared, to make him back down. “It’s not like I wanted you to follow me all across the forest!”

Jared snuffles loudly, shaking his head with anger. “Then maybe I won’t anymore.”

“Suit yourself.” Jensen shrugs and marches off, happy when there’re no hoof steps following, or any donkey calling out for him.

Then suddenly, Jared shouts, “You failed the test, by the way!”

“I don’t care about your stupid test!”

After a few long moments of just Jensen’s own loud footsteps and huffing, he feels his anger deflate and something quite like guilt slip in. His feet still pound the ground, but he slows his pace and glances over his shoulder to see Jared in the same place, feet planted to the ground and eyes wide with fury.

Jensen _hmphs_ and turns back to the trail, holding his head high and focusing on trees ahead of him. He steps around a few that get in his way and continues to relish the silence.

It doesn’t last long, though. The relishing the silence part, that is; the quiet continues on for the next two days and leaving Jensen to his lonely, shameful thoughts.

 

****

 

Without the constant prattling on of Jared’s voice, or the short attention span, or the brief sideshow of him eating poisoned berries, Jensen makes his destination in record time.

There’s a large red sign that reads _Snow White Realty_ with a bright yellow arrow hanging below that points at a hole in a tree. Jensen stalls at the entrance, which appears pitch black and shallow, but once he steps within, the area is lit up with golden rays from high above, far too high up that Jensen can’t even spot the ceiling. A long wooden counter separates the entryway from the remainder of the space, which holds seven desks with short, rotund dwarves each scribbling furiously at contracts.

When he makes it to the counter, he clears his throat but none of the dwarves are interrupted. In fact, they all start humming a melody, perfectly in harmony. There’s a tiny bell with a placard that declares _Ring for Service_ , and when he touches it, a loud doorbell echoes from above.

A short woman with long raven hair glides into the room and greets Jensen with a smile. “How can I help you?”

“You’re Snow White?”

“Nope,” she says with fake cheer then points at her nametag. “Flurry White, her cousin. Snow’s out right now. How can I help you?”

Jensen tries as friendly a smile as he can manage. Though, after all of Jared’s words have been rattling around inside his brain, he’s not sure he knows how to do it. “I have business to speak of with her. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Not ‘til tomorrow.”

“Well, do you know where I can find her?”

“Bed, Bath, and Beyond,” Flurry answers with a shake of her head. “Something about needing good pillows. What can I help you with?”

Slowly, Jensen pulls the eviction note out of his pocket, unfolds it, places it on the counter, and aims heavy, sincere eyes at her.

“I have been a loyal resident of your building for fourteen years, payments sent on time, no complaints from the neighbors, and now I’m being evicted?”

She rolls her eyes and tucks dark hair behind a pointy ear. “There have been plenty of complaints from the neighbors.”

His mouth drops open in surprise and a few flies land on his tongue. He quickly chews and swallows then growls. “Since when?”

“Since always,” she sighs. “No one wants to live near an ogre.”

“But, I’ve been a good ogre,” he wheedles.

“Says you.”

“I have!” Jensen insists, voice growing louder. “I take out my trash on a regular basis, mostly keep to myself when I’m not in need of food, and the outside of the building is well kept.”

She pulls a file out and flicks the edges all the parchment filling it to the brim. “Not according to your neighbors. There’re a lot of complaints of rodent garbage, sewage in the Sprig Spring, and ungodly noises at all hours of the night. Are you sacrificing wolves out there?”

Jensen frowns and thinks over dinners of rat-atouille, long baths in the nearby spring, and the snoring that gets so loud, he even wakes himself up.

She sets her elbows on the counter and waves her long, thin fingers about. “Look, Snow is pretty soft, overly friendly and kind, but really bad at business. Now that she’s off to the palace with the Prince, I’m here to get us back into the black.”

“I’m sorry?” Jensen asks, shaking his head, wholly misunderstanding the issue.

“We’re broke!” she declares. The dwarves all gasp, but she waves them off while staring at Jensen. Mumbles, “Back to work you go.” She leans across the counter and lowers her voice. “Look, when my dad died, he left the business to me. But I was just out of school and went about seeing the world, backpacking across the Marshmallow Mountains. Snow tried to hold down the fort, but between you and I, she sucked. Too much whistling, too little typing. But now I’m back to get things back in order, and first in order is cleaning up the neighborhood.”

When the whole point settles for Jensen, he leans back and frowns. “But couldn’t we work something out? I can clean up some of my area, keep the noise down?”

“Sorry, pal,” she says with a not-so-apologetic shrug. “The site’s already been sold.”

Jensen huffs. “For what?!”

“Luxury condos and a mall.”

“A mall?”

“Yep, a mall. With the best goods from Queen’s Landing.” Flurry’s eyes glaze over as her voice comes out softly. “All the dragonscale handbags I can carry.”

Jensen deflates and rests his elbows on the counter, shoulders hunching forward. “So what now?”

Flurry stands straight and closes the file with a swift hand. “Your eviction notice is registered for four days post-delivery.” She checks her stone watch and frowns, though it’s a bit too light to be empathetic. “So right about now, I’d guess Bedrock Movers are packing up your stuff.”

“And where do I go?” he whines.

She shrugs. “I hear the Cape is nice this time of year.”

 

***

 

Instead of heading straight back home … or what used to be his home … Jensen heads a bit northwest for Collins’ Corner, where he knows that the former Monsignor Misha sells spirits and potions. It’s just along the Canon Canyon, where many a man and object have fallen in, never to be discovered again. 

It’s been years since Jensen’s stepped inside, as he’d found himself spending far too much of his wee savings on caterpillar cider. He only has a safety net of five pellecoins that he stashes on the inside of his vest—in case of emergencies—but he thinks it’ll get him at least a little escape at the moment.

The bell above the door rings and the few patrons in the dilapidated shack stare at him. He knows those looks, the ones that scream _get goin’ ogre!_ , and he steps back across the threshold until a loud, jovial voice calls for him.

“Belly up to the bar, my dear friend!”

It’s Misha, with a broad smile. He sets an empty glass in front of an empty stool and waves Jensen in. 

“Are you certain?” Jensen asks, pointing at the few locals still baring dark looks for him.

“Yes, of course. Ignore the Three Little Pigs. They’re just a little salty.”

Jensen sneaks glances at each of the three men to recognize the flat snouts of their noses and pointy ears poking out from beneath hats they must wear to hide it all.

“Pork tastes better that way, if you ask me,” Misha adds with a bright laugh. He slaps the bar-top then points at Jensen. “’Pillar cider, right? Been a long time, but I never forget an ogre.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Jensen allows then pulls his pellecoins out to set on the counter. “But I think I’ll go with something lighter.”

“Try a rat-tini,” is grumbled from Jensen’s left. When he focuses hard in the dark shadow at the end of the bar, he makes out a familiar, furry face. “With extra whiskers,” Jared grumbles into the top of his glass.

Before Jensen can feel guilty for all that happened between them, he looks at Misha while thumbing at Jared. “What the hell is he drinking?”

“Piña coladas.”

“Piña—“ Jensen laughs and looks back to Jared. “You’re drinking _piña coladas_?”

“They’re very tasty,” Jared defends, curling his arm around his drink as though he needs to protect it. “Nothing like raccoons or rat tails, but I enjoy them.”

Jensen sighs and turns to Misha again. “I can’t believe you’re serving him that.”

“He’s of age,” Misha replies with a shrug.

“He’s a donkey!”

“And you’re a Jensen!” Jared slurs.

Misha leans on the bar and strokes the edge of his chin. “You guys have history, I see.”

Jensen runs a hand down his face. “Unfortunately.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Jared mumbles.

“I’m not!”

“Of course you’re not! You’re a Jensen!”

Jensen bares his teeth and snarls at Jared, tired of being pushed by him once again, especially after losing his home and having to trek all the way back through the forest to already packed boxes that he’ll have to push for miles until he finds a new place to settle down.

“Alright, kids!” Misha shouts as Jared sneers in return, huffing and puffing as he rises to his feet. “Rule number two in Collins’ Corner is no fighting!”

Jared’s eyes widen as he drunken sways back and forth. “What’s rule number one?”

“No shirt, no shoes, no problem.”

“Can I just have a drink?” Jensen asks, but Misha’s already shaking his head.

“No way. I don’t think either of you need another drink. What you need to be doing is heading out of here.” Then Misha raises his voice to yell, “Clif! Garbage needs to be taken out!”

Jensen and Jared get to arguing over who’s fault this is, but then a tall yet wooly troll appears next to Jared, grabbing him by the scruff and hauling him outside with Jensen in his other hand. Once they’re dropped just beyond the _Welcome_ mat, the troll wipes his hands together, shakes his hands, and growls, “Animals,” then heads back into the shack.

“ _You’re_ an animal,” Jensen shouts back at the door that the troll has now closed, “animal.” He then turns to Jared, breathing hard with nostrils flaring. “Well, thank you very much for that!”

“Not like it did me any favors either!”

“You’ve been nothing but trouble since the moment we met!”

“Yeah?” Jared challenges as he steps up and bumps his muzzle into Jensen’s chest to push him back. “And you’ve been a grumpy, rolly eyed, green ogre since we met!”

“Not this again,” Jensen sighs. He considers being the better person ... or ogre ... and heading off without saying another word when he hears one chilling word muttered behind him.

“Chicken.”

Jensen stops in place, blinks as if clearing his mind from the insult, and takes two steps forward before there is the distinct noise of _clucking_.

“Bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk. Jensen’s a chicken, bawk-bawk-bawk. Chickeny ogre, bawk-bawk.”

He doesn’t think twice, doesn’t waste a second with patience, just spins with his feet already moving to charge Jared and tackle him to the ground. They scrabble and weakly slap at one another, losing ground as they keep rolling over and over and over. Jensen grabs at some of Jared’s dark mane just as Jared yanks up on Jensen’s pants and effectively gives him a wedgie.

Jensen cries out with the pain of his undergarments lodged up places he can’t see, then flips Jared back over so they continue to tumble down the slight decline of mossy land leading away from Collins’ Corner. They are gaining enough momentum by flipping over each other and sliding in the dirt and deteriorating land that they finally spin over the edge and are falling without a single thing to grab hold to but themselves.

Jared screeches right in Jensen’s ear as he wraps his arms around Jensen’s neck, and his legs around Jensen’s waist. Jensen decides this is the end anyway and lets loose with a shaky wail as they drop faster and faster into the canyon.

Moments later, they’re diving into river at the base of the canyon, surprisingly warm water engulfing them. Jensen pops up to the surface and Jared rises just after him, spitting water right in Jensen’s face.

Jensen scrubs a hand down his nose and mouth then shakes water out of his hair. “This is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”

“It’s always my fault, huh?” Jared looks around, takes in the high walls of the canyon while barely staying afloat with his hooves swirling in the water. “Where are we anyway?”

“Sir Pent River,” Jensen replies as he paddles and scopes out the area as well, hoping to find an easy escape.

“Who’s Pent?”

Jensen spots a large opening within the canyon wall and thinks it could be a good place to rest for the night. He paddles himself forward so he can climb the rocky side. “I don’t know, but he must be someone really special.”

“Why do you say that?” Jared asks, of course now following.

“Because he has a river named after him.”

Jensen hates to admit it, but Jared does reasonably well following up the cliff-side, even as much of the surface has eroded and creates slippery slopes that put them back a handful of feet every few minutes. Jared stays quiet, sans a few tiny shrieks when he loses his grip or balance, but Jensen does his best to put their differences aside and give Jared a hand when needed. 

They reach the opening from below as Jensen grips the rock floor and pulls himself up to rest his elbows and check out the space. The cave goes back farther than Jensen can see, and seems even taller up close than it’d appeared all the way below in the river. A tiny fire flickers in the distance, casting hazy shadows on the walls. Jensen tries to focus on the figures forming within the cavern, but all he makes out are two bright red lights that flicker every few seconds. 

“What do you see?” Jared asks from the landing below, where he’s keeping himself plastered along the side of the canyon wall and as far from the edge as possible. 

“Some kind of light,” he replies warily. “But it’s red and ...”

Jensen stays completely still as the shape shifts closer and becomes more clear. There are not just two red lights, but two very large, very bright eyes blinking at him. A deep snuffle is followed by the echo off the cave walls, and Jensen gulps while stuck in place.

“Hey, Jared,” he says quietly, while staring back into the red eyes. “I don’t think Sir Pent is a person.”

Jared scoffs. “Then what is he?”

“A _serpent_.”

“What’re you talking about? You’re just saying the same thing.”

Jensen remains frozen as the figure moves closer and he sees the metallic sheen of its black scales and the far reach of its auburn wings filling the cavern. It then opens its wide, pink mouth, and releases a flicker of fire with smoke filling the space between it and Jensen. “Like a dragon!” he screams. “A serpent is a dragon!”

“A _dragon?_ Then why don’t they call it Dragon River?”

Jensen attempts backtracking down the wall but only runs into Jared on the next landing. He grabs Jared to shake some sense into him. “I don’t know, but we gotta go.”

Of course, sense does not work its way into Jared, because all he says is, “The only way to go is down.”

The dragon’s pokes its head over the side and again breathes a spark of fire that singes the very edges of Jared and Jensen’s hair.

“Then down we go!” Jensen yells just as he propels the both of them off the landing. 

Again, they fall while holding tight to one another until they’re plunging into the river. Once they break the surface, Jensen grabs onto Jared’s mane and tugs them away from the dragon’s lair. He keeps checking back and is terrified that the dragon is now flying right at them, scarlet wings flapping loudly, echoing in the canyon and warring with the harsh thump of Jensen’s quickening heartbeat.

“What now, genius?” Jared cries when they reach the riverbank and hold onto thick stalks of overgrown cattails already bending towards the water. 

Jensen surveys their surroundings only to realize they have nowhere to go for a quick escape. Surely the dragon will catch up to them before they make it even a few steps on land. He looks at Jared and pitifully shrugs. “Pray for a quick death?”

“No! No, I refuse to die,” Jared wails. “Especially after we fought all day and punched and spat. It’s not fair that we die while hating one another.”

All sound stops around Jensen, along with prior conceptions of Jared. The donkey is frightened, for sure, with its hair standing straight out and making it seem like he’d been electrocuted by thunder. But his eyes are also watery and sincere as he implores Jensen for equal consideration.

“Please, just tell me I wasn’t that bad? I don’t want to die being hated.”

“But I’m just an ogre,” Jensen says quietly. “What do you care about what an ogre thinks?”

“I care about what a Jensen thinks.”

Jensen opens his mouth to reply when all sound roars back in his ears, including the deafening flaps of the dragon’s wings as it swoops down and slips its talons around Jared’s torso then lifts him out of the river.

He screams and reaches out, as if he could really pull Jared from the dragon’s grip. He falls into silence as he watches the serpent’s strong yet graceful wings carry it up to the cavern with Jared just a tiny snack in its hands. 

Jensen spends long moments staring up at the cave and wondering, with such terrible tremors, what will become of Jared. Even by the light of the moon, it’s difficult to see much beyond the cavern’ mouth when suddenly there’s a large flash of fire and light inside it. Jensen shuts his eyes against the brightness and his mind fills with terrifying images of how that dragon is handling Jared. Jensen flinches with each mighty dragon roar, though he’s grateful when it seems to grow quieter each time. 

Finally, with great bravado, he drags himself out of the water, breathing heavily until he can manage the adrenaline rush still commanding him to do _something_. His legs are shaky and weak as he gets up, but then his knees lock and he stands upright with the determination to save a life. 

He runs around the edge of the canyon, slip-sliding in watering soil, yet finally making it to the short ledges they’d climbed just a short time ago. Jensen grabs at tiny rock formations, steps up on barely-three ledges, and hauls himself twice as fast as the time before. He keeps pushing back images of the dragon tearing Jared limb from limb and instead tugs himself up and into the cavern, standing tall with fists clenched at his side, and barks into the deep, dark, and seemingly empty space. 

“You will not take him!”

An answering snuffle sounds equally menacing and amused. 

“He is not yours,” Jensen shouts, “not to play with, or to eat. You can’t have him!”

Another haughty snort echoes in the cave followed by a high-pitched shriek that is so very Jared. 

Also decidedly Jared is the two-pitch bray, a nasally kind of _hee-haw_ ,which repeats itself a few times before he very clearly says, “No, stop that.” 

“Jared, no!” Jensen screams and runs to the fire, which is surprisingly at a fork in the cave. To the right, Jensen hears another bray followed by an amused snort from the dragon, and he races off in that direction, following a twisty-turny path that opens up to another, far larger cavern. 

By another fire, the dragon sits with its back legs spread wide and wings quickly flapping, all while it stares at Jared, who’s standing in front of it.

Jared points a hoof at it and sternly says, “I said, no more.”

The dragon leans forward and licks Jared’s face then all along his back while Jared yells no. He shakes his torso and dragon spit flicks off his hair, which is now standing up in different directions. The dragon seemingly giggles with smoke puffing out of its nose and slowly rising to the high ceiling.

“No!” Jared says firmly. “No licking! It’s impolite to lick new friends. Trust me, I found out the hard way.”

Jensen easily recalls his initial meeting with Jared and feels a funny tickle in his stomach having heard Jared insist what he just did. 

Jared quickly turns towards the opening where Jensen stands stock-still and more than a little shocked. “Jensen! You’re here!” He looks up at the dragon with another finely-pointed hoof, and says, “Now, remember, _no licking strangers._ ”

Despite the warning, the dragon slips forward to again lick Jared’s face with a wet lapping sound followed by a satisfied hum. It then rubs its snout against Jared’s cheek and somehow, Jared smiles and accepts it, stroking behind the dragon’s ear. “Okay, okay, I guess we’re not really strangers anymore.”

“ _What_ has happened since you got here?” Jensen asks with horror.

Jared nudges the dragon a few feet away while still patting the top of its head, which elicits a near-purring sound as it lowers itself and stretches out on the cave floor. “Oh, nothing really. She just started the fire when I said I was cold and wet, and then she gave me some food. I guess we’re friends now.”

Jensen’s eyes widen as the dragon rolls onto its—her—belly and Jared continues to pet along the stretch of golden-red scales that stretch out to her wings then narrow down to her back legs. “How do you know it’s a she?”

Jared reaches up near her eyes and flicks the long eyelashes.

“Oh. So ... you’re okay?”

“Yes, of course I am,” Jared chuckles. “What did you think?”

“You were taken by a giant dragon to its lair,” Jensen says tightly. “So, you know, I thought the worst.” When the dragon kicks her back legs out and smiles as Jared reaches just beneath her wings, Jensen clears his throat. “Well, I should probably leave you two alone.”

“No, wait!” he shouts before Jensen can take more than a step back. Jared hops a few feet forward and nudges the dragon’s right wing away so he can clearly look at Jensen with wide, wondrous eyes. “You came up here, after all. You don’t need to leave.”

“Well, I was just, uh,” Jensen mumbles with odd hand gestures, unwilling to outright say the words. “Checking on you, to see that everything was going okay.”

Jared widens his eyes in shock then deliriously laughs and broadly smiles. “Oh my god! You were coming to save me!”

“No, not really,” Jensen insists as he backs up a few feet. “Just, sorta assessing the situation.”

“No, no, no, no,” Jared sputters out as he hops forward, a few steps to the left then the right, excitement making him shake. “You came to save me from the mean ol’ dragon!”

Just then, the dragon rolls over to sit on her hind legs and makes a mournful sound.

Jared turns to her and frowns. “No offense, darlin’.” 

“Darlin’?” Jensen asks with an eyebrow raised.

“She’s really sweet once you get to know her,” he insists quickly then lowers her voice. “But it’s not like that between us. She’s just a friend.” After a beat, he switches from excusing that away to hope and delight, once again nearly dancing in place. “You came to _save_ me,” he sing-songs, “And you were _afra-aid_ , that I was _de-ad_.”

“Yes, of course I was!” Jensen shouts to end the charade. “A donkey gets lifted up a thousand feet in the air, tucked in the wretched grips of an gargantuan dragon ... of course I was afraid!”

Jared charges Jensen and knocks him over, hooves pushing Jensen’s shoulders to the ground as Jared lavishes him in wet, sloppy licks and kisses. “It’s ‘cause you _lo-ove_ me, and now you’ve _sa-aved_ me.”

Jensen quickly sits up and shoves Jared out of his personal space, yet they’re still sitting mighty close with Jared resting in Jensen’s lap and their faces mere inches away. “Okay, okay, stop.” He takes a breath and bites his lower lip as he thinks about it. “It’s not that I love you ... because love is a might strong word.”

“Buuuuuut?” Jared asks, pressing his snout up to Jensen’s nose.

“But, maybe I kinda, sorta, almost didn’t mind having company and it’s possible that I perhaps missed having someone chattering alongside me when I did have to travel alone.”

Jared bops Jensen on the forehead and grins. “That, Mister Ogre, is the beginning of love.”

He grimaces and rubs his forehead. “Care, maybe. Not so sure about love.”

“Hogwash, it’s love.”

“Hogwash _you_ ,” Jensen replies for a frown. “An ogre can’t love a donkey.”

Jared drops his chin and looks up through lowered eyelashes. “Maybe not. But perhaps a Jensen can love a Jared?”

In a flash, Jensen’s life as an ogre runs through his head, and he thinks about how lonely his existence has been and how it’s always been quiet—too quiet. Even if Jared is quite loud and a bit too overexcited and operates without much in the way of a brain-to-mouth filter, it certainly would be an improved life to have Jared around. 

Slowly, Jensen considers just what that kind of life could be, the two of them out on the road and homeless, but being together. Not perfect, but still a life. 

He finally answers, “Yes, perhaps a Jensen could love a Jared.”

Jared leans in and smacks his lips against Jensen’s, which isn’t quite as comfortable as Jensen had imagined. Not like Jensen had imagined it being comfortable in the first place, but it’s much worse really, for Jared’s long jaw and wide, crooked teeth press hard into Jensen’s face. Then Jared jumps out of Jensen’s lap and prances around him in circles. “This is gonna be so awesome. Just me and you, you and me. Best of friends, for all time. No one but us.”

The dragon reminds them of her presence with a sad, pitiful whimper and Jensen sees it now resting on its belly with its chin set on folded wings. 

Jared flashes a hopeful smile at Jensen. “Maybe just me and you and dragon?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “This is a lot of maybes.” 

Jared drops to his knees and clutches his front hooves against his chest. “Please, please, please, please, please? We don’t have anywhere to stay anyway, so we can just stay here with her, and she’ll keep us warm with fires, and she can fish for our dinners, and her wings will be like blankets when winter comes, and we can go swimming in the summers, but always have a place to come home to, together.”

Jensen feels a tiny smile cross his face as Jared huffs to catch his breath from the long-winded plea. “Okay, yeah, I guess we can stay here.” Then he leans around Jared to find the serpent melodramatically covering its face with a wing. “So long as Miss Dragon doesn’t mind?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Jared insists, running over to her to headbutt her cheek. “Right? We can all live together and be friends and take care of one another! You cook with your fire-breath and we’ll clean with our ...” Jared looks at his hooves then points at Jensen. “ _He’ll_ clean with his hands and I’ll serenade us. We’ll all do our part for the rest of our days.”

Just then Jared clears his throat a few times and warbles out, “Imagine me and you, I do ... I think about you day and night, it’s only right. To think about the girl—ogre—you love and hold him tight. So happy togetherrrrrrrrrrrr. I can’t see me lovin’ nobo— _mmph_.

Jensen tightens his hold around Jared’s muzzle, only relenting when Jared is absolutely not singing anymore. “Maybe not... every day?”

Jared sighs, “If you insist,” but doesn’t really deflate. He still seems overly thrilled at their new conditions, even if Jensen’s unsure that a cave is an upgrade from an abandoned barn. “But all the other things, they’ll be good, right?”

Jensen smiles and begins to agree, “Yes, they will be,” except something trembles in his throat so he only gets half the words out. The ground is now shaking below them with the cave walls cracking and pebbles crumbling down to the floor. The quake strengthens and Jensen nearly loses his balance, only kept up by Jared butting up against Jensen’s back to steady him. 

“Jared! Are you okay?”

“No, look at the dragon! What’s happening?!”

They both continue to shake and stagger along the dusty floor, but keep their eyes right on the dragon. She’s spinning in circles with her wings creating a violently strong cyclone that draws Jensen and Jared even closer despite their fighting against it. As they slip against the loose rocks and dust, Jensen tries to pull Jared behind him to keep him safe, but the cyclone easily drags them in. 

The fire is blown out and debris within the cavern is now swept up into the cyclone, along with Jared and Jensen, who are spinning within the wind’s clutches and both screaming for their lives.

Jensen figures if he’s going to die, it would be after claiming he would love a donkey. Doing that is more unnatural than death by dragon tornado.

The cyclone quickens and its funnel grows tighter, but Jensen has no other sense of what’s happening. He grows unbearably dizzy and closes his eyes, loses all sense of time and imagines he’s already in a circle of hell that includes never-ending amusement park rides, and accepts his fate as it is.

Dead. Dead, dead, dead. 

He must be dead because he’s now floating out of the cyclone’s power and drifting down towards the ground, where it feels as though he’s been carried then laid down to rest. Just as his head is set to the ground, he feels something slip out from under him and when he turns his head that way, he realizes it’s the dragon’s wing releasing him. 

“What’s going on,” he mumbles, only to be quieted by the dragon setting the tip of her wing to her lips with a soft shush.

“Just rest, my dear,” she says with a light, airy voice. There’s a loud and bright flare as she restarts the fire, followed by the soft crackling of the lit wood. “Now, that should keep us warm.”

Jensen blinks. “You can talk?”

“I could always talk,” she giggles, “you just couldn’t hear me before.”

“Whatever that means,” he mumbles then slips to his side and pulls a knee beneath him to push up. He stops when he sees a pale hand pressed into the dirt floor. 

He wiggles his fingers and the pale hand’s fingers wiggle in time. He pulls his fingers into a fist and watches a pale fist form before his very eyes. Slowly, Jensen brings his other arm up and stares at the white, human palm attached to his very own pale wrist. 

He wiggles those fingers, too, which elicits another giggle from the dragon. 

“You are quite a silly human,” she says.

Jensen feels his face and down to his neck, reptilian scales completely absent. He pulls up his shirt to see a flat pale-skinned belly, checks his feet and is happy to see purely human toes, even grabs between his legs to make sure that part is human as well.

“ _Very_ silly.”

“And very human,” he happily declares as he jumps up to his feet. “I’m human again! Completely and utterly human!” His elation quickly deflates as he considers the situation. “But how?”

“How what?”

“How am I human? And how did you do that wind tunnel thing, and how in the hell can I hear you?”

The dragon sweeps her wing forward so it brushes his chest. “Because you finally opened up your heart and accepted a real, personal bond.” As Jensen is gob smacked at that, she smirks and taps his head. “And for the other two things ... if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Jensen sets his palm to his still-racing heart and mentally thanks every possible entity up in the sky that he has survived this whole matter in one piece and is now totally, wholly human. “I thought you were going to for a second there.”

“I could never do that.”

“But the ...” and Jensen makes a motion from his mouth, “fire, you know? Not so friendly.”

She smiles broadly, bright white teeth gleaming. “All flame, no bite.”

“But you took Jared out of the river and ... where’s Jared?” he asks with sudden worry.

She sweeps her other wing out to the far side of the cave. “He’s over here. And he’s okay, fussypants. Just bumped his head a little on the landing.”

Jensen glances between the space she’d pointed at and the dragon herself as he sidesteps his way around the fire. Off in that corner is no donkey, but a rather long human body limp as a corpse. It’s a few inches longer than Jensen imagines he is himself, with large bear-paw-like hands and a mess of brown hair on its head. 

Once he’s close enough, Jensen nudges the man’s shoulder with his foot. He flinches when the man rolls towards him, then softly sighs when he takes in the handsome slope of this stranger’s cheekbones and the tilt of his eyes and nose. 

Jensen looks back to the dragon, who’s watching with gentle, watery eyes. “And this is Jared? Jared-Jared?”

“Of course it’s me, sillypants.” In a second, Jared is up on his feet and looking _down_ at Jensen with a careful yet sweet smile. 

_That’s new_

“And you’re, you.” He playfully pokes Jensen’s shoulder. “You’re Jensen.”

Jensen is immediately struck by how beautiful Jared is with honey-tinted hair and golden-brown eyes that shine in the light of the fire. “How do you know it’s me?”

Jared fixes the way Jensen’s shirt fits on his more-human body, even tugging on the collars so they perfectly rest at his neck. “What? Because you’re not an ogre anymore? You’re still a Jensen.” He leans in close and mock-whispers, “Plus the eyes are kind of a give-away.”

“And you’re still a Jared,” he replies, dumbstruck by all that has happened between them in the last few days. “Though mightily improved, no disrespect.”

As a human, Jared laughs with his head tipped to one side and his shoulders shaking in delight. It’s not so different than as a donkey, really, yet it is much more pleasant. “Oh, yes, I’m very disrespected that you prefer this over the donkey get-up.”

Jensen smiles back, feeling his cheeks burn with the effort. Something he hasn’t experienced in more than 14 years, which makes him smile even more. 

“So, I’m guessing you had a terrible curse over love as well?”

Jensen nods then flushes with the memory. “Yeah, I gave a hand job to a farmer’s son in the Grey Witch’s backyard.” Jared lifts both eyebrows and Jensen tries to laugh it off. “No big, really. What’d you do?”

“Well, nothing quite that _lascivious,_ but the Grey Witch tried to match-make me with her granddaughter. When I hid in a barn full of hay and broke half the bales apart, the farmer called me a jackass. Then made me one.”

“Oh, so,” Jensen drags out. “Something really, totally innocent.”

Jared lifts his hands in the air. “Hey, no judging on my part. I’ll just be glad that your ogre-itis kept you totally single for this jackass.”

“Yeah, something like that.” Jensen then catches sight of the dragon over Jared’s shoulder, sitting patiently and watching the whole show. “Did you know she could talk?”

“Of course I did,” he says with a shrug. “That’s how I knew how harmless she was once we got up here.”

Jensen begins to smirk. “You mean when she was licking your face like a toy?”

“She was just really enthusiastic about making new friends.” Jared pokes Jensen in the side and smirks. “Some people actually like new friends.”

Jensen is prepared to scowl when something warm and giddy overtakes him as he looks into Jared’s welcoming eyes and smile. “So, are we really staying here forever?”

Jared shrugs. “We could. Hang around with the she-dragon, go swimming ...

“Or we could test out our human bodies and see if things like work and food are out there for guys like us.”

Just then Jared’s stomach obnoxiously grumbles and he flattens a hand against his belly. “Oh, man, food. I’m _so hungry_. What do you think about waffles?”

Jensen reaches for Jared’s hand and laces their fingers together, tugging them on their way to the mouth of the cave. “I think that’s a great idea.”

And from there, Jensen and Jared set out to see the country through a human perspective, focused on starting a more traditional way of life that would allow the both of them to exist with the rest of the world.

With their new best friend Danneel the Dragon in tow, of course. Nothing beats personal air travel.


End file.
